Teaching Her Housework - 2
"Are you just going to keep sweeping like that?"
"I-I can handle it myself. So stop worrying about it and go do whatever it is you're supposed to be doing."
"Do I look like I'm just lazing around to you? I'm the one babysitting a sister-in-law who can't even clean properly."
"Who can't handle a little cleaning!? Look at this—I'm doing just fine!"
"…Unbelievable."
Looking at the brush clutched in my sister-in-law's hand and the floor she'd been sweeping this whole time, I was so dumbfounded that a hollow laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
"How long were you planning on taking, sweeping like that with a little brush? You'd be at this for hours just gathering the dust into piles."
"Th-then! What am I supposed to do instead!?"
"Whew…."
Letting out a sigh, I pointed toward the storage room where she'd dug out that brush just a little while ago.
The truth was, that storage room was stocked with all kinds of cleaning equipment—among them a steam cleaner and a perfectly ordinary vacuum cleaner.
A brush was fine for tight corners and shelves, the sort of spots where hauling a vacuum around was awkward, so I'd just quietly watched her go. Yeah, that part was all well and good.
The problem was that she'd been attacking the kitchen, the living room, the master bedroom she shared with her husband—all those wide-open spaces—armed with nothing but that brush and a broom.
And with me standing there watching her do it, how could I not sigh?
"Never mind the tight little spots, but for somewhere big like the kitchen or living room, you just run a vacuum over it."
"A-a vacuum? There was a vacuum?"
"Wow."
When I stood behind her, hovering and offering my two cents while she swept floor dust with a tiny brush, she snapped back without even turning around.
I was the one who'd shown her where the storage room was.
She was the one who opened it herself and pulled out the brush. And now here she was, blinking away like she'd had no idea any of that stuff existed. Honestly, it was enough to drive a man insane.
Crack—!
"Eek!?"
I brought my palm down hard on her plump, squishy backside.
Maybe it was all the body maintenance she kept up, but the sound had a wonderfully satisfying snap to it, and her reaction was even better.
"Hnk…! Why—why do you keep hitting me out of nowhere…!?"
She'd just taken one a minute ago, and she still hadn't come to her senses, glaring at me all the while.
"What exactly are you glaring at me for? Do you want another one?"
"Ngh…."
The moment she saw my hand go up, she dropped the brush she'd been holding, letting it clatter to the floor.
She tried to cover her rear with both hands, defending her backside, biting down hard on her lip as she stared straight at me.
"Th-this—isn't this just nitpicking?"
"Nit—what? Picking a fight?"
What came out of her mouth after that was truly a sight to behold.
"Y-you're not just… hitting me because you feel like it… is what I'm saying… isn't it…?"
"?"
I was at a loss for words for a moment.
I was so flabbergasted that my brain just buffered, unable to decide what to even say.
It's really been a while since I've dealt with this type.
Looking at her took me straight back to my group projects in university.
Because I'd felt this exact emotion once before, back then.
The aegyo villain, begging cutely—why can't you just do it for me?
The mindless nitpick villain, throwing out objections without offering a single alternative.
The deserter-ninja villain, vanishing halfway through citing personal errands.
The dark templar villain, promising to do the work, missing the deadline, then coming out swinging with a shameless accusation—you ditched me.
Honestly, a grade-slave or a chaebol-heir villain was far preferable.
Unlike those bastards, at least they were useful and you could make it a win-win.
Looking at my sister-in-law right now… honestly….
I couldn't tell her apart from the rest of them at all.
"What am I supposed to say to someone doing such a great job? A cleaning that should've been finished ages ago is still dragging on, and on top of that you're spouting nonsense and talking back—of course you get a slap."
"…C-can't you at least use words?"
Fair enough. I didn't need to rough her up.
The problem was that there were cases where words didn't work at all.
Crack—!
"Eek…!"
"Since words don't work, my hand goes up instead. Like so."
Carelessness. She'd let her guard down and lowered her hands, leaving herself wide open.
I seized that split-second opening without hesitation and gave her backside another crisp smack.
"You can't even do one thing properly, and you're telling me you'll 'handle it yourself'? Handle what, exactly?"
"Huurk…."
Slapped on the rear again and again, my sister-in-law sank down to the floor like some tragic heroine, head hanging low, sniffling.
I stood with my arms crossed, looking down at her—practically one with the floorboards at this point—with polite disinterest.
I'm not heartless enough to feel zero doubt about whether I'd been too hard on her. But I had my reasons for doing this.
God, honestly.
High self-esteem and stubbornness aren't inherently bad traits.
But you have to know how to read the room and adjust. When someone insists they're right at every hour of the day, rain or shine, how exactly am I supposed to respect that?
Besides, she'd left practically everything to her husband until now, so of course she assumed housework meant a lazy wipe-down, some laundry, and getting food on the table.
She needs to learn that housework is hard work too.
Either way, I fully intended to make it unmistakably clear that she was going to be doing it from now on.
If this were her own house, it would be none of my business.
But this was my house, and leaving her to her own devices was just asking to find out what kind of disaster she'd cook up.
And guess who'd be the one cleaning up that mess? Me.
Ha, damn it. I was hoping for an incident that actually felt like an incident.
Correcting her, pointing out her mistakes, smacking her rear.
That was the entire sum of every "incident" that had happened between me and my sister-in-law while cleaning.
Not a single moment that lent itself to any kind of meaningful interpretation, one way or another. Genuinely disappointing.
By the way, how long does she plan on staying like this…?
Looking down coldly at my sister-in-law, still slumped on the floor, I tapped her hunched shoulder with my fingertip.
"There's still plenty left to do. How long do you intend to sit there? Get up."
"…."
These were hours I could've spent kicking back with an ice-cold beer, relaxing—and instead I was spending them teaching my sister-in-law housework.
And when the person who was supposed to be doing the housework was sitting there like that, how precious did that time feel to the one stuck watching?
"Up. Now."
"F-fine…. I'll do it, won't I…."
My sister-in-law clambered to her feet, shuffling awkwardly.
Her face was a portrait of grievances, but she didn't talk back or grumble—she just started walking toward the storage room.
"If you understood, where exactly are you going?"
"Wh-where do you think? To g-get the vacuum, like you just told me."
"!?"
She'd declared she'd handle everything herself, then proceeded to blow off everything I said.
And that sister-in-law had actually listened to what I said, thought it over, and was heading to the storage room for the vacuum.
Wow. I almost got emotional there.
I'd fully expected her to refuse or whine, so I rejoiced inwardly at her evolved form—developing in a positive direction for once.
In a way, I'd proven that with people like her, the answer wasn't words but corporal punishment.
That said, even if it worked, keeping things one-directional forever could wear a person down or leave deep wounds in their heart.
And then it would all pile up until resentment boiled over, or the distance between us just kept growing.
Watching her go, I think it's carrot time too.
If you wield the whip, you owe them the carrot. That's just how it works.
A little soothing, a little comfort—wrap her up gently. That's all it takes.
Snuggle♥
I followed behind my sister-in-law as she headed for the storage room.
And then I drew her softly into my embrace.
"Wh-what the!?"
I'd made a point of letting my footsteps be heard, but she still looked startled.
Hmm, judging by her reaction, though….
She'd probably been fretting that if she didn't hurry, she might earn herself another smack on the backside for dilly-dallying.
Which was exactly what I'd been counting on, honestly.
She must have been squirming with that thought nagging at her—and yet, well, look at this.
"You know it's not because I dislike you, right?"
"……!?"
The voice that had been so cold and clipped just moments ago had transformed into something warm and tender, whispering right against her ear—and the trembling I'd felt running through her body began to ebb.
"Wh-what are you s-saying all of a sudden…. Ever since this morning, you've been so, so, so shamelessly—…."
"Shameless, she says. We've done it all, every which way, and now she's blushing?"
"…."
Her darkened expression didn't just brighten—it went past that and started flushing a deep, glowing red.
Easy. So easy.
She was a difficult type, like those university project villains, and yet ridiculously easy to win over.
Besides, for all her pride, my sister-in-law was weak to compliments, which made her roll over even faster.
The universal term for this breed of person: a pushover.
In a word—Pushover Sister-in-law.
But… why is her body so hot…?
The heat wasn't coming from me. It was coming from her.
Her temperature seemed to be climbing at a frankly unnatural rate.
Maybe it's because she was sweeping around like a maniac.
It was true she'd been moving nonstop, cleaning away.
So a rise in body temperature and a bit of sweat were perfectly reasonable.
"Sister-in-law, didn't you sweat a lot cleaning?"
"I-I suppose so. Mmm…. No wonder I feel a little, sticky…."
"…?"
Something felt off.
Pushover or not, that hazy, ambiguous, strange air coming off her was a bit much….
"Sister-in-law, are you okay?"
"Ah, yes…. I'm, I'm perfectly fine…."
"…."
My suspicion hardened into certainty, and the corner of my mouth curled up slyly as I tightened my hold on her, pressing our bodies closer together still.
"Sister-in-law. Have you been feeling it since a little while ago?"